Prisoner
by fearlessgoddess2
Summary: I don’t know when it started. I’d woken up to realize that I was already awake. And so began my waking nightmare. Outsider POV. One-shot.


**A Prisoner**

I don't know when it started. I'd woken up to realize that I was already awake. And so began my waking nightmare.

I was walking down the street in some of my casual clothes, shirt, jeans, sneakers. I tried to move my muscles. I couldn't. I tried to look around. I couldn't. I tried to scream. I couldn't. I was a prisoner in my own body. And it took me days to finally accept that I wasn't dreaming.

Days stretched into weeks, which stretched into months. Sometimes I was there, sometimes I wasn't. I think I got so tired from being awake all the time that I would lose consciousness. But whatever was inside me wouldn't stop. It hurt people. It killed people. I remember the feeling as a blade I clutched in my hand slid neatly into a man's chest, blood rushing from the wound, sliding down my arm, as he collapsed to the ground.

I am a sixteen-year-old girl. And I want to die.

I remember a meeting between me and others in a forest. They spoke a different language, maybe Latin. All of their eyes were black, so I assumed that mine were too. That whatever was inside me was causing them to be black.

Finally, I'm not sure how much later, hope came. Alone in my motel room, the door swings open and two young men run inside. The scene progresses quickly, and I lose flashes of what's happening. I remember growling horrible things at them, threatening them, saying things I would never say. I remember a choking sensation as water was poured down my throat. I think the water hurt whatever was inside me, because steam came from my mouth and it struggled violently.

Suddenly, I was tied to a chair, looking up at a symbol on the ceiling above me. The thing inside me is calm, as if it doesn't feel it is in danger, but the two young men look cruel. They look like they want to hurt me. Fear bubbles up inside me. Are they here to help me or hurt me? I'm not sure. The emotions sparkling in their eyes sing of hate and loathing, but I see pity too.

I just want this nightmare to be over. To be finished. I want to be free. I want to say I'm sorry for the things I've done, though I wasn't in control. I want to get the blood from underneath my fingernails, where it has sat for weeks. I want to reclaim my body as my own.

The taller one begins to recite something. Latin again I think. My body contorts and shakes fiercely as he progresses into what I can only assume is an exorcism. I'm soaking wet from the water they've been throwing on me, and slightly shivering from that as well. The chair moves back and forth on the ground with violent screeches. I catch bits and pieces of the words, unsure of their meaning but knowing in my heart that they will free me from this prison inside my own body.

My head is thrown back with a harsh force and a dark smoke is expelled from my mouth. My chin falls to my chest and after a couple of seconds I manage to cough.

Of my own free will.

I blink.

I move my muscles.

I look around.

I cry.

The two young men are suddenly at my side, untying the ropes that bind me as I continue to cry. As soon as I'm free, the taller of the two takes me into his arms and sits me on the ground. I curl into him, sobbing, my fingers interwoven in his shirt, tightly grasping what's nearest to hold onto. I hear him speak to me softly as he rocks me, rubbing my back as my breaths come in shudders.

"Shhhh. It's alright. You're alright now, Delia. It's gone. You're safe."

I keep my grip on his shirt tight, the closest thing I can get to safety. I cry for a few more minutes, then exhaustion sweeps in and I'm too tired to cry. I just lean against the safety of the young man who saved me.

"Sam, we gotta go. We don't know if Brendan is coming to get her."

Sam nods and looks down at me. "I'm going to carry you to the car, okay?"

I nod, my hold on his shirt remaining, as his arms go under my legs and shoulders, holding me tightly to his chest as he stands. We walk outside and I breathe slowly. In and out. In and out. I'm safe. It's alright. It's gone. I repeat his words to myself as he puts me in the car. I feel like a frightened child as he pulls away, assuming he's sitting in the front, and I whimper.

"Please…" I whisper. "I don't want to be alone."

His eyes, which had before been full of hate and loathing, are now soft and gentle. He nods and motions for me to move over, which I do, and he slides into the car, closing the door. He pulls me up against him, putting his arm around me, and I curl up at his side, swallowing hard, and closing my eyes. And I sleep.

**THE END**


End file.
